Thursday, June 16, 2011

Work was a little squirrely yesterday...I went from Slidell, La to Vancleave, Ms, Ocean Springs (I had an important call to make there)...

Gulfport...then back to Slidell, La to work with my favorite knucklehead in South Louisiana (he really is a knucklehead and he really is my favorite)..then back to Gulfport followed by a return trip to my room in Slidell.

Lot's of radio time though...I heard Ring My Bell by Anita Ward yesterday. Did you?

The Highlights...

And the greatest song that ever came over the FM...

I couldn't help but wonder, as I was beating on the steering wheel and breaking out in goosebumps...if Elvis had to deal with haters when he was becoming the King of Rock n Roll the way I'm having to as I become the King of Painting.

Who knows?

Alright, back on the road today and home to Martha and The Boy tonight.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Six in the morning I'm at Bedi's Texaco inhaling an Iced Texas-Sized Honey Bun. Then with my faced stuffed like a gerbil hoarding seed I squeezed a cigarette in between my cheeks...I had to get one more before the coffee went cold.

It's Refreshment Sunday...not Gluttony Sunday, but bet...at 11:59 and 30 seconds I was frantically chewing a mouthful of M&Ms tryin' to get 'em down before midnight.

Just sad...and wrong.

Somehow I don't think this kind of excess, or legalism, has anything to do with Lent.

Of course I'm not much better while fasting. I've limited myself to 15 cigarettes a day...and what do I do? I smoke halfs...quarters. See it's OK if I go out for a sixteenth time 'cause I only smoked a half of the last one. Sad...it's not like I normally pull on 'em til I can taste the filter. By the time Easter gets here I'll be carrying a ruler around in my pocket...by smoking 3/4 of each cigarette I can actually step out three more times...six if I only smoke a half each time.

That's pathetic man.

Then, in light of the lenten fasts, there's my normal sketchy behavior and the questions that raises. If I was only required to love my neighbor as myself for 40 days a year I could probably find some sneaky way of pulling it off, but for the rest of my life....awwww come on. Yet isn't this what I've pledged to try and do just as surely as I've agreed to lay off the sweets for lent? I mean I wouldn't think of stopping by the donut shop this afternoon....well that's not true...I'll be thinking about it...A LOT, but I wouldn't dare do it because I've said I wouldn't.

But let some old lady pay for her groceries with a check in front of me at the store. I'll spend that twenty minutes fantasizing about elaborate scenarios in which she get's a flat tire on the way home...that's just mean. Yesterday at a light...there was a fella going from car to car beggin' for money. All I could think was please don't bother me dood...and then when the light went green and I had to wait while the lady in front of me dug around for a dolla to give 'im...I got uhhmm...a little impatient.

I know not every one of these beggars is legitimate. There's a fella at Waffle House on High Street that's been beggin' for twenty years...just tryin' to get enough money for a bus ticket to Baton Rouge where his cousin lives. That's not the point though...I coulda given that fella a dollar and I certainly could have not gotten so bent about having to wait three seconds at a green light.

Probably more important than me not eating a Honey Bun this afternoon...

Monday, December 20, 2010

There was a time when I drank most of my coffee at a place called Tastee Donuts. Those were the best coffee drinking years of my life.

When you asked for a cup of coffee it was brought to you in a plain white cup, on a saucer, with a smile from a big lady named Shareese...and the pleasant sound of a metal spoon clinking against ceramic.

The chatter was constant...starting as a murmur at the other end of the L-shaped bar, babbling at the corner, words and snippets, then pieces of conversation until they were full blown and an amusing distraction from the crossword puzzle or a genuine threat to draw you in. It ran like that from one end to the other and back again...punctuated by the constant clank of spoons against cups.

The counter was cracked linoleum...white with silver wood grain pattern and flecks of glitter. The seats were chrome wrapped, red vinyl topped, spinning stools...and there were brass ash trays. Smoke obscured everything but the noise, and those who weren't smoking were too busy stuffing their faces with fried bread and sugar to worry about it.

It was a DONUT shop...the coffee was Community Coffee and it came from a can...it was a Southern place.

It's a Quizno's now. If you want a cup of coffee you've got a choice between a prissy national chain or one that's owned locally. I don't have to describe these places...you've all been in 'em and they all look the same..they are all the same.

I'm immune to 'em now...whatever just give me a "small dark-roast to go." I've learned that even at Starbucks this will get you a small cup of black coffee. My Daddy on the other hand is not so familiar with these places.

Every once in a while me and him will end up in one of these cafes...like yesterday. Normally he insists on paying...but I do the ordering. It's not a plan of attack or anything. I just know these places and I know my Daddy...and instinctually I know that the less contact they have with one another the better. If all he has to do is hand over three bucks...he'll be fine. If he has to answer a series of meaningless, but increasingly baffling questions...he wont be.

Somehow he beat me to the counter yesterday but it wasn't until I heard him say...

It's cheaper if you use a ceramic cup..so if you tell them you want coffee they start in with the difference in price and bah. Once that's settled you get a stream of nonsensical questions about what kind of coffee you want...

"Would you like our seasons jambo java medium snowflake or.."

"Say what now?"

It was time for me to act..."two small dark-roasts please...to go."

"OK"

We got our coffee, he paid...confrontation with the ridiculous current state of the world put off for another day.

Tastee's was a very relaxing, comfortable, familiar bit of cultural affirmation...Lord help us if that's what these places are meant to be.

Monday, November 1, 2010

I stopped by there to get a cup of coffee this afternoon...decafinated Martha...decaf.

Since I had like 25 minutes to wait...the fella in front of me in line was evidently buying the last box of donuts he was ever gonna eat for the rest of his life...there are probably people reading this who took less time to name their own children than this fella did deciding if he could run the risk of eating a powdered donut while wearing a black shirt. It's not even a meal...it's a box of donuts...seriously how bad can the consequences of buying the wrong donut be? You're out 80 cents...of course in his case that's money well spent. Elimating one donut from the list of choices should shave about 20 minutes off his next trip.

'Course I'm never gonna get the time back. I'm the one that's paying in minutes of my life 'cause he can't decide on a 12th donut to make a dozen. He was obviously havin' a great time movin' his finger back and forth between the Bavarian and Lemon Creams.

Anyway I waited there long enough that I started wantin' a donut man...in the worst kinda way. Luckily I'm grown and carry my own wallet...I bought one...powdered sugar cake donut.

It was disgusting...like having someone grate nutmeg straight into your mouth.

How hard do you have to work to mess up a donut? It's fried bread coated in sugar.